


Extra Dirty

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [50]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 01:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7738921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse/Marvel Cinematic Universe, teen!Rodney McKay + teen!Cam Mitchell + teen!Steve Rogers, working at a soda shack frequented by teen!John Sheppard, teen!Evan Lorne and teen!Bucky Barnes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extra Dirty

“This is an outrage,” Rodney was saying as he pulled on his red apron.  
  
“Why?” Steve asked, before Cam could stop him.  
  
And Rodney started in on the same rant he’d been repeating since he’d first started working at the Fizzylicious soda shack at the beginning of the week.  
  
“I’m a doctoral candidate,” Rodney said. “I’m a genius. I could be changing the universe. But because I’m sixteen, I’m stuck working fast food.”  
  
“This isn’t quite fast food,” Cam began, but it was a losing battle with Rodney.  
  
Steve, however, was too polite for his own good, or Cam’s. “A doctoral candidate? That’s really impressive. What for?”  
  
“Engineering, this time around, but I’ve got my eye on physics as well,” Rodney said. He stared at the list of soda recipes taped to the wall above the mixing station and sighed. “I can see how this kind of job might be useful for someone pursuing a degree in chemistry, but not for me. Still, if I want to eat something better than ramen, I’d better make other people’s lives fizzy, eh?”  
  
Steve perked up. “Oh, you’re from Canada?”  
  
Cam was starting to wonder if it wouldn’t be better to be on shift with Vala, Peter, Sarah, and Carson, who would talk about how life in the Old Country was superior to life in the colonies and otherwise torture Cam for being a ‘cowboy’ because he was from Kansas (cowboys and farm boys were not the same thing).  
  
Sam, who ran the sales point, was arranging the refillable mugs display and humming under her breath. Most guys fell all over Sam, because she was blonde and beautiful and brilliant. She’d seemed like just the type for Rodney, what with her being an astrophysics prodigy, but instead Rodney had gotten into an ego pissing contest with her on their first day and Cam, as shift manager, had banished them to opposite ends of the tiny shack with strict instructions not to interact with each other unless absolutely necessary, leaving poor Steve as the go-between in their passive-aggressive war.  
  
The only bright point in Cam’s shifts were when Evan and his friends stopped by for drinks. They worked at the puzzle room around the corner and came by to get caffeinated before their shifts started.  
  
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door frame, and there was Evan, all blue eyes and dimples, flanked by John and Bucky.  
  
“Hey Cam,” Evan said. “Who are the new guys?”  
  
“This is Steve,” Cam said, and Steve waved shyly. Cam saw interest spark in Bucky’s eyes and filed that away for later.  
  
“And this is Rodney.”  
  
Rodney turned. “I heard my name. What do you want?”  
  
“Rodney,” Cam said, “this is Evan, John, and Bucky. They’re regulars here, so be nice to them.”  
  
“Oh. Hello.” Rodney smiled tightly.  
  
John looked Rodney up and down with blatant appreciation - that Rodney completely missed. “Rodney, huh? What brings you to town? I haven’t seen you around before.”  
  
“I’m at the university,” Rodney said, drawing himself up. “I’m a doctoral candidate.”  
  
“PhD? In what?” John leaned against the door frame, radiating interest.  
  
“Engineering, for now. Physics later,” Rodney said.  
  
Cam cleared his throat. “Rodney, their drinks.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Rodney mustered up another smile. “What would you like to drink?”  
  
“I think I’d like me an El Doctoro,” John said.  
  
“Want it extra dirty?” Rodney asked, blushing a little bit.  
  
“It doesn’t come extra dirty,” Cam said. “It’s just horchata and Dr. Pepper.”  
  
“Um, oh, right. What size?” Rodney asked.  
  
“Biggest one you’ve got,” John said.  
  
“Okay. Forty-four ounces. I’ll get right on that.” Rodney turned and bustled away, and John watched his retreat appreciatively before going to say hello to Sam and pay for his drink.  
  
Because Cam was a nice guy, he nudged Steve into taking Bucky’s order.  
  
“Hey, what can I get for you?” Steve asked.  
  
Bucky, at least, was more subtle than John. He took in Steve’s _Captain America_ t-shirt and said, “I think I’d like a Boy Scout, today.”  
  
Bucky was too subtle for Steve, who nodded and smiled and asked what size and whether Bucky wanted it extra dirty and then hurried away to make the drink.  
  
Evan watched Bucky hurry over to John with much amusement, especially when the two of them bent close and conferred in low voices.  
  
“The usual?” Cam asked, because Evan had a very dry sense of humor, and would ask for _Your Mom_ just like he was delivering an insult.  
  
“Naw, today I think I’ll have a Southern Gentleman, extra dirty, easy on the eyes.”  
  
Cam went to scrawl that onto a cup - Evan never got more than thirty-two ounces - and paused.  
  
“Come again?”  
  
“Easy on the ice,” Evan said, amusement glinting in his blue eyes.  
  
“Right.” Cam nodded his head and turned to fix Evan’s drink. Huh. Was Evan flirting with him? Because they’d been friends forever.  
  
And then Cam had to go break up a tiff between Rodney and Sam, who’d managed to get into an argument over John’s drink.  
  
“Hey, now,” Cam said, “let’s just be happy and fizzy, all right? No need to start World War Three over a soda.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Rodney was saying. “Prime/not prime, 15,485,867.”  
  
Sam narrowed her eyes, mind racing.  
  
John said, “Prime.”  
  
Rodney blinked at him. Sam blinked at him. Cam knew John designed the math puzzles at the game room in addition to being one of the room moderators.  
  
“So, can I have my drink?” John asked.  
  
Sam handed it to him, as well as a handful of change.  
  
“How did you do that?” Rodney demanded.  
  
John shrugged. “Prime/not prime is an easy game. Fifty-fifty odds every time. Of course, 15,485,867 is the millionth prime number, so there’s that.”  
  
Sam raised her eyebrows. “You have the first million prime numbers memorized?”  
  
“They’re just numbers.” John nodded at Bucky. “You’re up.”  
  
Bucky and Evan paid for their drinks, exchanged pleasantries with Sam, and then they and John headed on to work.  
  
Rodney watched them go, expression thoughtful. “You know those guys?” he asked Cam.  
  
Cam nodded. They all worked ten-hour shifts at the game room four days a week. “Like I said, they’re regulars.”  
  
“Tell me more about John,” Rodney said.  
  
Cam told Rodney what he could, which really wasn’t much, but it was enough to distract Rodney from his cold war with Sam for a while, and he and John established a running game of Prime/Not Prime every time Evan, John, and Bucky came by for drinks.

Bucky asked for a Boy Scout every time, and Steve filled his order so politely, and he didn’t notice the way Bucky looked at him. Steve just kept doodling pictures of Bucky on paper towels, and unbeknownst to Bucky, there was a little shrine to him on the side of the refrigerator.  
  
Evan kept ordering a Southern Gentleman, and Cam was pretty sure Evan was flirting on him, but not sure enough to make a move.  
  
Summer was coming along well. Rodney was very busy with some project for school on top of his shifts at the soda shack. Steve was saving up money for some really, really nice watercolor pencils he’d seen at the art supply store down the street. And Cam was slowly but surely working on his Mustang, hoping it’d be ready for junior year, because it’d be a sweet ride for when he took people out on dates.  
  
People named Evan, hopefully.  
  
And then the peace at Fizzylicious was shattered when Elizabeth, the manager, rearranged the shifts, so Daniel was working instead of Sam. One would have thought that permanently putting Rodney and Sam on separate shifts would have been good, and it was, until John showed up. Because Daniel was some kind of prodigy linguist - and Cam was starting to feel really insecure, surrounded by teen prodigies and geniuses - and Daniel spoke French, and John, who went to a fancy private school, also spoke French, and apparently Rodney wasn’t Canadian enough to speak French well, and Rodney didn’t take it well when Daniel and John chatted in French while John paid for his drinks.  
  
Rodney spent the rest of his shift sulking and taunting Steve, who wanted to be an artist when he grew up, and Rodney saw nothing redeeming in anything but the hard sciences.  
  
Rodney spent the next three shifts with Daniel sulking until John slouched up to the soda shack, hands in his pockets.  
  
“I’d like my El Doctoro, please,” he said. “Biggest you’ve got. And also, 7,195,554,537.”  
  
“Prime,” Rodney said promptly, smiling.  
  
John said, “No.”  
  
“What?” Rodney furrowed his brow, thinking rapidly. “I’m pretty sure it is.”  
  
“It’s my phone number, Doc,” John said, and he winked at Rodney, then strolled around to the window where Daniel was waiting.  
  
Rodney stared after him, gaping. Cam caught him by the shoulders and steered him over to the mixing station. Rodney stared at the bottles of flavored syrup, silent and unmoving.  
  
“The drink, Rodney.” Cam prodded him in the spine, and he came alive in a flurry of movement, mixing John’s drink at top speed.  
  
“I think today,” Bucky said to Steve, “I’d like my Boy Scout extra dirty, if you don’t mind.”  
  
Steve nodded and smiled politely. “One extra-dirty Boy Scout, coming up.” He started to turn away, and Bucky rolled his eyes. He reached out, snagged the edge of Steve’s apron, and tugged him back around for a frankly filthy kiss, all roaming hands and hungry moans.  
  
“That cannot be hygienic,” Rodney said.  
  
“You better be coming up later, Boy Scout,” Bucky growled, and kissed Steve again. Then he let Steve go and sauntered over to join John, fishing in his pocket for coins and his punch card.  
  
Steve blinked dazedly. “Um, Cam? What just happened?”  
  
“Go make the drink, Rogers,” Cam said, and nudged him in the direction of the mixing station.  
  
“Southern Gentleman, extra-dirty, easy on the ice,” Evan said. He looked Cam up and down. “So, will I have to resort to extreme measures, or will you go out with me?”  
  
“I’ll go out with you,” Cam said.  
  
Evan smiled. “Good.” And he kissed Cam on the cheek before he walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> All the sodas named in this fic may or may not be real. No infringement intended.


End file.
